


Rescue Me

by CubbieGirl1723



Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, LV AU WEEK, Season 2, episode 2.8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23331895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CubbieGirl1723/pseuds/CubbieGirl1723
Summary: Logan needs rescuing after an altercation with the PCHers. Who's he gonna call?
Relationships: Duncan Kane/Veronica Mars, Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars
Comments: 36
Kudos: 94
Collections: LV AU WEEK 2020





	Rescue Me

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Aurora2020 for her beta help and for her title suggestions! I've loved getting to know you better, friend!
> 
> Thanks also to the discord ladies. I was looking for an unfinished fic with a similar premise that I read years ago and when no one could find it, they said, "write it yourself!" So apologies if this is similar to something else out there. Consider it a tribute! It starts in 2.8 and goes AU from there.

“Is it done?”

Recognizing the voice, Logan’s suspicions are confirmed.

“Oh, it’s just getting started, Weevs. You have no idea the hell you just brought on yourself.”

Snapping the stolen phone closed, he glances around. He’s in a ditch, he thinks on the southeast side of town. 

_ Not too far from Veronica’s apartment. _

He wasn’t going to let himself think of her. Thinking of her will only make him feel weaker, more vulnerable than he already does. 

_ Too late.  _

He runs through his—admittedly short—list of options. Dick is in Mexico this weekend, along with Beaver, Enbom, and Luke. So he can’t call any of them, either. 

His ribs ache, his jaw throbs, and his head pounds. It’s too far to walk back to his car. Not like he could manage much distance anyway in this shape. 

Punching in the number, he waits...and listens to Duncan’s voicemail. 

_ Dammit. What’s he doing tonight anyway? _

Another thought pops into his head. 

_ What if you call Veronica and she doesn’t answer because she’s doing Duncan? _

It’s increasingly hard to stay upright and his eyelids are heavy. He’s just so tired. The diminishing adrenaline leaves him shaky. Stumbling, he leans into the embankment, then slides down to the hard ground. 

There’s only one option left. But maybe just a tiny rest to gather his energy first. She’s gonna be pissed that he’s calling, he needs all the help he can get before he dials her number. 

Logan’s eyes close as unconsciousness overtakes him. 

* * *

Veronica wakes to the buzzing of her phone. She checks the time. Two a.m. Not a good sign. No one calls just to say hi at two in the morning. 

Squinting, she stares at the digits. It’s not a number she recognizes. So it could be a wrong number or a drunk dial. She should just ignore it and go back to bed. 

But she’ll just lie awake, wondering. So she presses the green button, manages a sleepy, “Hello?”

Silence stretches over the line. She puts a little more force behind her second hello, letting the caller know that it’s two a.m. and she’s pissed that they woke her. 

“I need your help, Veronica.

Logan’s voice is quiet, a little broken. It sends a jolt through her, better than an espresso. She’s wide awake now. 

_ What has he done this time? _

“Where? What?” Questions tumble out of her mouth as she scrambles for her clothes. 

“Can you give me a ride back to my car?”

He sounds...well, she can’t decide how he sounds. Not exactly lucid but not giddy like when he drinks. But why else would he need a ride?

“Logan, are you drunk? Or stoned?”

“Can you just come?” 

Ah, whiny and petulant. She recognizes that tone. Sighing, she buttons her jeans and slips on her sneakers. 

“Where are you?”

“A little way outside of town. Not too far, I don’t think.”

_ Odd place for an ‘09er rave.  _

Veronica has to pull the phone away from her ear for a second while she tugs her green hoodie over her head. “You don’t...know where you are?” 

“I’m in a ditch, Veronica, stuck on the side of the road.” His voice is scraping, raw, and she worries. “Can you just come?”

She grabs her purse and her keys. Good thing Dad is out of town. “Try to find a landmark. I’m on my way.”

* * *

When she finally finds him, Logan collapses in her car, doesn’t even bother to quip about how it’s so tiny he barely fits. She pesters him but he doesn’t answer her questions, just mutters intelligibly and leans his head against the window. 

“Okay, where’s your car?” 

No response. Glancing over, his head lulls at an uncomfortable angle, eyes closed. She shakes his shoulder.

“Logan, where’s your car?”

If he wakes up with a _Dude, Where’s Your Car_ reference, she swears she’s gonna kill him. 

But there’s nothing. She can’t tell if he’s asleep or passed out but either way, he’s not driving himself. With a sigh, she heads to The Grand. 

Getting the 6’1”, 175 pound teenage boy out of her car by herself proves difficult. Luckily, as she’s trying to tug him out of the passenger seat he comes to and his able to carry some of his own weight. 

Leaning heavily against her, they stumble through the parking garage toward the elevators. Logan groans as she grips his waist tighter and under the lights in the elevator she finally gets a good look at him. 

“Logan,” she gasps at the ugly bruise blooming on his cheekbone. “What happened?”

“PCHers,” he mumbles. “Jumped me, staged a little interrogation about Felix.” 

She doesn’t know what that entails but it’s enough to send a shiver of fear over her skin. 

Thankfully the lobby of the Grand is deserted and whoever is supposed to be manning the front desk has abandoned their post. Veronica doesn’t want to have to explain this to curious eyes. She breathes a sigh of relief for small favors and navigates their way to the elevator. 

Once inside the gaudy golden space, Logan slumps away from her, leaning against the wall. She hits the button for the penthouse in silence. When the doors open he tries to walk through them but sways on his feet. 

Grabbing him, she anchors his arm over her shoulders and plants her hand firmly around his middle. He moans.

_ Whoops, maybe too firm. _

She loosens her hold a little and points them in the direction of his suite. He doesn’t move as they stand outside the door.

“Logan, I’m not digging in your pockets. Please tell me you have your keycard.” 

Startling at her voice, he slowly locates his wallet and keycard. After two tries, though, he can’t manage to get it into the slot. Veronica snatches it from his hand, anxiety over his condition growing. 

The suite is dark as they enter. She flips on the light and it’s not until she sees his sweater lying on the couch that she remembers Duncan. 

_ You know, Duncan. Blue eyes. Boyfriend. Lives here with Logan _ . 

Logan stumbles into the entryway table and Veronica reaches out, steadying him. 

“Okay, let’s try to keep it down out here and get you all patched up.”

He lets her lead them across the living room and through the double doors to his bedroom, almost docile. It’s not an attitude she’s used to from Logan. 

He sprawls onto his bed as she closes the doors behind them. 

Dropping her bag and brushing her hands off, Veronica aims for brusque and professional. “Okay, Logan, where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere,” he mutters into the mattress. 

“Oh, look, an odd-numbered day.” He doesn’t see her eye roll but she hopes he’s lucid enough to enjoy her sarcasm. “I’m trying to help you here, the least you could do is—”

“Go home, Veronica,” he cuts her off, rolling over wearily. “I appreciate the ride but I’m fine, I can do this part on my own.”

He winces as he sits up and she puts her hand on his chest, halting his progress. 

“I don’t think so. You passed out in my car, you probably have a concussion and can’t be left alone.”

“I’m not alone.” His tone turns mocking. “Duncan’s here, remember?”

“He’s not awake so he doesn’t count.” Veronica crosses her arms and glares at him. “Now, take off your shirt.”

Logan’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Wow, Mars, you really—”

“Don’t even start with me,” she snaps, halting his words. “Do you need help or can you do it by yourself?”

“Fine. Hope you enjoy the show.” But he winces as he pulls off his jacket and shirt, his hands shaking with the effort. 

His torso is already beginning to bruise, in addition to the scrapes on his hands and face. 

“Your ribs.” Veronica’s voice breaks, she clears her throat to cover it up. “How do your ribs feel?”

“Bruised, probably not broken.”

If she lets herself think about how Logan knows the difference, she’ll lose it. She forces it out of her mind. 

_ Professional. Clinical. Detached. Like a nurse, Veronica.  _

“Do you have a first aid kit?”

He waves in the direction of the bathroom before sinking back down on the bed. “You can check under the sink.” 

Taking a moment to get herself under control, she flees to the bathroom and rummages through the supplies in the cabinet under the sink. 

Extra toilet paper, towels, and soap but that’s it. 

_ Most expensive hotel in Neptune and they won’t even leave you a Band-aid? _

Sighing, she gives up. Thankfully, there’s a 24 hour drug store a few blocks away. 

“No dice,” she explains, entering Logan’s room. He’s stretched out on his stomach, unmoving. “I’m gonna run out for supplies. Maybe you should shower? It’ll keep you awake and help you feel better, once you’re cleaned up.”

He doesn’t respond and she remembers his possible concussion. Shit.

“Logan?” She gently shakes his shoulder, his skin hot under her fingers. “Logan, wake up.”

He moans into the mattress. “Don’t wanna.”

“Logan, listen to me.” Veronica kneels down so that she’s eye level with him, keeps her palm resting on his back. “You’ve gotta get up, get into the shower. Then when I get back you can rest.”

Groaning, he rolls off the bed and heads into the bathroom without looking at her. The water starts and, trying not to think about him naked under the spray, she swipes his keycard off the dresser and lets herself out of his bedroom. 

“Veronica.”

Duncan’s voice startles her and she spins to face him in the darkened living room.

“God, you scared me,” she gasps, heart racing. “What are you doing?”

Perched on the edge of the couch, his elbows rest on his knees. His forehead is wrinkled and he’s fiddling with a small envelope between his fingers. 

“Why are you sitting here in the dark? What’s going on?”

Veronica flips on the light and sits across from him, staring him down. 

“I could ask you why you’re leaving Logan’s room at…” Duncan glances at the clock, “Three  a.m.” 

Expecting a flair of jealousy, Veronica searches his face. But his eyebrows are raised and he gives her a small smile. 

“You’re not mad? I mean, you have no reason to be,” she rushes to explain. “He needed help, a ride, so he called me. We are friends.”

“Yeah, you’ve been a little preoccupied with him lately.”

“I’m not—we’re not—”

“I’ve been a little preoccupied, too.” She breathes a sigh of relief as he cuts off her sputtering. Then he hands her the envelope he’s holding. “Read it.”

Veronica inspects it first. It’s addressed to Meg, from someone named Chris Talley who lives in Seattle. Sending Duncan a quizzical glance, he motions for her to open it. 

Quickly scanning the contents, Veronica’s eyes widen. 

“Holy shit. Meg’s pregnant?”

“Chris is her aunt, lives up in Seattle. Apparently Meg wanted to move up there because her parents—”

“I can read, Duncan,” she interrupts hotly. “What the hell? Did you—”

“No, I had no idea,” he hurries to explain, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “She didn’t tell me. I suppose…”

“Yeah, if she found out after you and I started dating…” Veronica swallows. “Awkward. Duncan, what are you going to do?”

He shakes his head, stares at his hands. “I don’t know. She’s in a coma. I wanna do the right thing...and if she wakes up, I think I should be with her.”

She waits for rage, indignation, or even irritation. But it’s as if a great weight lifts off her shoulders. She decides to be honest with him and try to end things well. Sliding closer, she puts her hand over his until he meets her eyes. “Like you said, we’ve both been a little preoccupied.”

Veronica clears her throat, pretending it’s not clogged with tears, and jerks her head in the direction of Logan’s room. “Maybe it’s for the best. I have some unfinished business to take care of there, too.”

Duncan squeezes her fingers. “I really liked the idea of us, Veronica, but I think too much has happened...too much has changed.”

“If it makes you feel better, I think we can still be friends. I’d like it, if that’s possible.” She stands, giving him a tremulous smile. 

The breakup stings, but it’s more the loss of what could have been than what actually was. She thinks she actually  _ can _ be friends with Duncan without things being too awkward or tense. 

“I’d like that, too.” His face mirrors the relief she’s feeling.  _ Definitely for the best.  _

Inching towards the door of the suite, Veronica adjusts her bag on her shoulder. 

“Logan’s a little worse for wear. I’m gonna run out for some first aid supplies. I think he has a concussion so I’m spending the night—in his room—but I’m not—we’re not—”

She stumbles over her words, not sure how to explain herself to Duncan. 

“I know, Veronica. But you could be and—I mean, I don’t want you to think that it would bother me.”

“But I don’t—”

“Okay.” He stands and drops a soft kiss on the top of her head. “You’re a good friend. Let me know if you need any help.”

“Thanks, Duncan.” Her voice is soft and she watches him as he disappears into his bedroom, latching the double doors quietly behind him. 

It’s bittersweet, this breakup. But it feels right. She feels right, for the first time since she kissed Duncan on her birthday three months ago. When she broke up with Logan, she wanted to cry for days and drown her sorrows in chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. But...nope, no desire to crank up sad girl music and cry in the shower now. 

_ Although, ice cream is always good to have on hand.  _ Maybe she can get some at the drugstore. Shouldering her bag, she heads out for essentials.

* * *

“Logan? Logan, wake up.” Veronica’s small hand nudging his shoulder brings him out of his stupor. 

“Wha?”

_ Oh god. His head. Why is there a hammer pounding on his skull?  _ His whole face throbs _. _

He brings his hands up to cradle it and keep his brain from seeping out his ears and discovers a whole new set of sore muscles. His bare torso, bruises blooming. His ribs. His body is just one big mass of agony.

Veronica is still talking. 

“I got some antiseptic, bandages, um, ice packs, Band-aids—”

“Percocet?” He cuts her off, his voice scratchy with sleep and pain. 

“They don’t sell that at Walgreens.” Despite his haze, he can hear her judgment. 

_ Fuck that. Who cares what Veronica thinks? _

Unfortunately, the little voice in his brain answers back.

_ You do, Jackass. _

“Nightstand. Top drawer.” 

Maybe it will help with the pain, or maybe it will just knock him out enough that he stops arguing with himself. Either one would be an improvement.

It’s dangerous, giving Veronica permission to rifle through his drawers. He must be a masochist. She could flay him open, eviscerate him. 

But really, could it get any worse? There’s a motorcycle gang out to get him, a murder charge on his head, and the girl he loves is dating his best friend. Who happens to be his roommate. 

To his deep surprise, Veronica wordlessly hands him the prescription bottle and a glass of water from the bathroom. He palms out four but she swipes two from his hand before he can swallow them. Shrugging carefully, he tosses them back and downs the water.

“Um, can I, uh,” she gestures at his face. “Your cheek.”

Logan reclines back on the mountain of pillows, raising an eyebrow. 

Not meeting his stare, Veronica rummages through her plastic shopping bag before pulling out a tube of Neosporin. Her fingertips are gentle as she smears it across the abrasion on his cheekbone but he can’t help his slight flinch.

“Shhh,” she whispers. “Sorry, I know it stings. Let me see your hands.”

_ What the hell? Is she a palm reader now?  _

Still confused, his head lolls back as he holds out his hands. Veronica sinks down on the edge of his mattress and runs her thumbs over his knuckles, then inspects them.

“Logan.” Her voice is tight, angry. “Why aren’t your knuckles scraped? When they jumped you that night on the bridge—”

“Because I didn’t get in any hits, Veronica. Two of Weevil’s minions jumped me, then tied me up, played Russian roulette with various body parts.”

Her sharp intake of breath draws his gaze to her face. Her jaw is clenched and her eyes flash. “But you said—”

“Yeah, their interrogation techniques aren’t exactly recognized by the Geneva Convention.”

She squeezes his hands so hard it hurts.

“Did you see their faces? Do you know who it was?”

He starts to shake his head before he remembers how much that hurts. “They wore masks.”

“So how do you know it was Weevil’s goons?”

“When they were dumping me out of their creepy stalker van, I swiped a cell phone, called the last number they used to check in with their boss. It was Weevil, I’m sure of it.”

If he weren’t concussed, he’d swear there’s a gleam of admiration in Veronica’s eyes. Her fingernails dig into his flesh but he doesn’t pull his hands out of her grasp.

“I’m gonna take him down so hard, he won’t know what hit him. He’s gonna pay, I swear.”

Nope, not admiration. That’s definitely vengeance in her eyes. It’s equal parts frightening and arousing. 

“I appreciate that but I’ve got it covered, Veronica. I can—“

“Take care of yourself, yes, you’ve mentioned.”

She rolls her eyes and he wants to beg her to keep helping him forever. He swallows the words down, stays silent. 

“But haven’t you heard? Revenge is a specialty of mine.” Her teeth glint in the light, smile feral and wide, and he caves, pretends he’s doing  _ her _ the favor. 

“Whatever. Can it wait until later, though?”

Running a hand lightly over his hair, she softens. 

“Yeah. You can rest for a little bit. I’ll wake you up in an hour, check your pupils and stuff.”

He wants to curl up in her lap like a cat and let her pet him. Or maybe that’s the Percocet kicking in. 

Gesturing at the neatly folded clothes on the other side of the bed, he shifts to lay his aching head on his pillow. 

“I got out some pajamas for you, if you want them.”

Veronica stills. The awkward kind of stillness that means that she doesn’t know what to say to him. 

“Thanks,” she eventually mutters, swiping the shorts and t shirt and fleeing to his bathroom. 

He definitely doesn’t think about her stripping down behind the door, the fabric of his clothes caressing her soft skin. Nope. Not even a little bit.

Closing his eyes, he tries forcing his mind blank. 

The bathroom door closes softly and Veronica clears her throat. 

“Um, I’m just gonna grab a blanket and go sleep—“

“Stay here. Please.”

It’s easier to talk to her like this, in the dim light with his eyes closed. He can’t see her rejection or judgment. He can always pretend not to remember this moment tomorrow and, knowing Veronica, she’ll be more than happy to oblige. 

But she climbs on the bed next to him, her slight weight barely shifting the mattress beneath him. 

Her hand skims over his hair again. “Does this hurt?”

“No. It’s nice,” he mumbles into his pillow, drowsy on pills and Veronica’s touch. 

“Duncan and I broke up.”

_ What _ ? 

That drives the sleepiness out of his head. His eyes pop open and he turns to stare at her in the darkness. Her outline gives away nothing. 

“When?”

She waves her hand in the direction of the living room. 

_ Tonight? _

“Now?” He asks. “Because if he broke up with you for this”— _ if it was my fault  _ —“I’ll go talk to him, apologize. I’m—“

“No.” She cuts him off, clears her throat. “It wasn’t—no.”

He doesn’t know what to say.  _ I’m sorry? _ He’s not, though.  _ Congratulations _ ? Seems too harsh, even coming from him. 

“Oh,” is all he manages. 

“Yeah. I just didn’t want you to think—but I’m not implying—“

She stumbles over herself in the darkness, trying to explain, until he reaches out and settles his hand over hers. 

“Thanks. For being there when I need you.”

“When you called I kinda forgot about Duncan entirely,” she confesses, staring down at their entwined fingers. “So it seemed like the right thing to do.”

Oh. 

_ Oh _ .

He tugs on her hand until she lies down next to him, close enough that he can see her eyes. She licks her lips and he wants to kiss her. 

_Wait, jackass._

“I’ve forgotten about Duncan for days at a time so I can’t really blame you,” he banters to cover the beating of his heart. 

“But you weren’t dating him. It’s bad girlfriend behavior. It’s not a big deal, actually.” She plays with his fingers, sliding them loosely in her grip and it makes him desperate for more contact with her skin. “Things aren’t exactly finished between him and Meg.”

She looks up from their hands, stares straight at him. “Things aren’t finished between you and I, either.”

“No?” He croaks, voice raspy. 

“But Kendall…”

“Moved on.”

“Ah, I see.”

But does she? Her eyes are still open but her gaze is closed off. 

“No, I moved on. To better things.”

She doesn’t say anything but a smile teases her lips. 

“You’re being awfully open about things tonight, Mars. Unlike you. Should I worry this is a hallucination?”

He strokes a finger down her cheek and she bites her lip. 

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just worried about you.”

“I’ll be fine. Expert care.”

She snorts, probably rolls her eyes but he can’t quite tell. 

“Seriously, thanks.” He cups her face, his mouth inches away from hers. 

“I’m glad you called.”

“I knew I could count on you.”

“Always.”

Like she’s sealing her promise, Veronica closes the distance between them, presses her lips to his. 

She pulls away entirely too soon for his liking, mumbling something about not wanting to hurt him. Curling her body around his, she settles in and falls asleep almost instantly.

After everything his body’s been through, Logan should fall asleep easily. But he’s afraid to relax in case she disappears. Maybe this time...if she’s willing to trust him and he’s ready to be worthy of that trust...maybe this time they will work.

With her reassuring weight pressed against him, Logan allows his heavy eyes to close and lets her marshmallow scent sooth him to sleep. 

Veronica’s here. Everything will be fine now. 


End file.
